


Lots of unfinished snippets

by orphan_account



Category: 205 Live - Fandom, WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:49:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 11,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21820480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Unfortunately I'm gay and I yearn but I can't finish writing and this is a mess
Relationships: Ariya Daivari/Drew Gulak, Ariya Daivari/Tony Nese | Maverick, Cedric Alexander/Tony Nese, Drew Gulak/Tony Nese | Maverick, Jack Gallagher/Ariya Daivari, Mustafa Ali/Ariya Daivari
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

Drew’s lips are always chapped. Ariya knows because Drew talks too much with his dry big lips that bruise like flower petals when you actually put any force behind the kiss. Ariya kisses him like the violence he embodies, digging nails into the scruff of his new beard and using just enough teeth that Drew doesn’t slam him around. Once Drew gets on a tangent, it’s the best way to quiet him down.

It used to be like kissing his best friend. It used to be with Tony behind him and Drew’s beard an afterthought. Ariya missed the scrape of the beard against his- but Drew’s face laughing up at him, hands gently on his hips, not needlessly rough, wanting for a time that wasn’t just Ariya- 

That isn’t now. Now is chapped lips and rough hands and it’s still just as good as it was but it’s just another Drew. 

It’s probably better than Tonys sad eyes. 

He just wants to kiss them without pulling back and seeing the loss of each other in their eyes. Drew didn’t take it well, clearly, but it’s not like Tony gets it either.

He kisses Tony anyway. Tony holds him sweet and gentle still, always letting Ariya try something new, always kissing him like they’re high school sweethearts hiding from the homophobes. Tony holds him like he’s glass, doesn’t try to talk about Drew, hides his hurt in stolen glances but he cuddles Ariya regardless.

And because he’s already made several bad decisions today, he makes another and bodily tangles himself with Jack Gallagher, grabbing wrists and interlocking ankles in the death silence of a parking deck and gives a too-tender brush of thumb over lip. He’s selfish. He’s terrible. He wants. 

He makes his intent know, learning slow and watching, letting Jack look around, tangling his fingers in ginger hair before he’s giving Jack the lightest press of lips to his jaw. 

Jack shoves Ariya into the backseat of the rental they should be sharing and kisses with a violence Ariya can’t tell isn’t intentional.

Ariya kisses Mustafa, too, that night in that dumb fucking diner, with Tonys foot crooked around one ankle as he laughs at the argument and eats his trillion calorie milkshake (Ariya will never bring it up. Tony knows. This is his way of kissing boys he can’t have.)

Mustafa says something stupid again about being fair and deviled food cake advocating for garbage chocolate and despite the lettuce that’s probably stuck in his teeth, he pulls Mustafa in by the hoodie and steals his beanie during so he can see the long shine of hair fall over Mustafa’s shoulders. It’s not even cold enough for a beanie.

Tony and Jack say nothing, with Jack continuing to rib at Tony for his milkshake and Tony trying miserably not to put up his front again. He wants to scream. He’s selfish. He’s terrible. He wants. Pay attention. 

He’s holding them all together, but pushing everyone apart even more. Drew isn’t there. Drew’s space feels like it hurts more than Drew did, but that was never true for Tony. Ariya loves Tony too. 

He’s used to hiding all of it.


	2. Chapter 2

Ariya squirms slightly, making himself more comfortable in the bed hazily. Light was filtering in through the dusty air, illuminating most of his bedroom, the big bed, the vanity, the scattered clothing. Ariya wiggles again. There’s a broad warmth against his back, a beard pressed up to his spine. Tony makes a soft noise like a snuffle, a vague mutter of protest at Ariya’s movement.

Ariya closes his eyes again and drifts peacefully. The bed is warm and soft and the sheets are wrapped perfectly, a hard body pressed up against his back and spooning him. Tony’s a good heat sink for his natural furnace like temperature, a fantastic sleeping buddy, even if Tony’s positioning in spooning gives Ariya a crick in his neck. 

Tony seems to register he’s been thought about, and right on time-

Tony hitches his hips up slightly, pressing his crotch tightly to Ariya. He’s hard.

He’s also still asleep. He’s squeezing Ariya tighter now, like a child would with a stuffed animal, grinding his hips up thoughtlessly. He can feel the head catch on the hem of the briefs, bumping wet splotches into the small of his back as Tony humps him slowly. 

It’s become a pattern. Ever since Tony had started sleeping in the same bed as him, he’d wake up at various points in the night with Tony flush against him, not embarrassed about his cuddling in the slightest. 

And usually unaware or unobservant that there was a wet patch on the sheets. In fact, Tony rolled out of bed so fast in the morning to piss that Ariya assumed at first he knew and neither one were willing to talk about it, but Tony seems to be getting morning wood for reasons other than sleeping in the same bed as Ariya.

Probably.

Now that he was thinking about it, Tony took unreasonably long showers, but he took unreasonably long showers after the gym too. So it probably wasn’t him.

It might be nice if it was though.  
Not the best thought to have about your best friend, who’s ex is your other best friend.


	3. Chapter 3

Ariya’s dead asleep on the couch. Tony stops, if only for a moment, marveling in the way light hits Ariya’s brow, the soft curve of his closed eyelashes, his bitten lips slightly parted. He’s snoring quietly, a peaceful respite in midafternoon sun, surrounded by cardboard boxes and divinely unbothered.

Tony removes his shoes carefully, making his best efforts to keep quiet. Ariya doesn’t stir. The curves of his back dip into the couch like the old leather is hugging him, a near contrapasso of movement. He’s tucked a pillow against his chest and is hugging it like he’s dreaming about breaking spines, almost curled into himself but somehow aware of the space of the couch. The curve of his waist is tempting- like Tony might just fit in that gap. 

Ariya stirs a bit when the door opens, but Drew has the good grace for once to not yell that he’s home. His face is somewhat sullen- but he shuffles beside Tony regardless, exhaling quietly through his nose. “What are we gonna do with him?” 

It’s affectionate, warm. Teasing. Tony’s not sure if Drew’s really asking, so he doesn’t respond. 

Drew motions to his feet. “Jack’s socks.”

Ariya is wearing socks patterned with little raindrops and umbrellas. Tony frowns. “You think he’s sleeping well while Jack’s in Britain?” 

“Maybe we shouldn’t have asked him to help move us in.”

“I did think he’d just insist on hiring movers.” Drew crosses his arms. “We can’t wake him up.”

“He’s gonna be pissed if we work out without him.” 

“Ten bucks he stays the night.” 

Ariya stirs slightly. The screwdriver crammed under his ribcage shifts, rolling off the couch and onto the unfinished coffee table he’d been tasked to put together.

“.......He’s got that mansion and all, but he usually stays out of it if it’s just him.”

Silence. They both know why- it’s a big house to be alone in.

“Why are we paying rent here again?”

Tony slaps Drew’s arm. “Go make dinner.”

“Three plates?”

“Yeah.”

—-  
Ariya stirs slightly when the vegetables hit the pan, the smell of onions and garlic rousing enough to bring him out of the near dead sleep he was in. Tony looks up from his seat beside the couch, watching silently as Ariya cracks open one eye and scowls. 

Drew doesn’t turn around. “Is Sleeping Dowry awake yet?”

“It’s Sleeping Beauty.” Ariya grumbles. 

“Go back to sleep and see if it fixes that for you.” Tony quips, grinning as Ariya leans into his space regardless, kissing him lightly and giving his beard a tug.

“Hey.” Tony protests, a half hearted warning stuck in his throat as he tries to grab enough of Ariya’s beard to tug back. 

Ariya stretches out of his reach, looking over the couch at Drew. “What time is it?”

“Past dinnertime.”

“Then where’s dinner?”

“You’re so spoiled, dude.” Tony hauls himself up on the couch. “You slept all day.” 

“You got the place moved in fine from what I see.”

Drew motions to the plastic plates and forks. “Sure did. Absolutely didn’t drop our plates and break them.”

“I’ll buy you new ones.”

Drew looks over his shoulder. “C’mere.”

Ariya vaults the couch smoothly, standing up. “Stuck the landing!”

Tony grabs him by the waist and lifts, throwing him into the rack position over his shoulders, Ariya going limp with a soft ‘hwoop!’ of glee. 

“HEY, HEY- no WRESTLING in the-“

Drew’s protest falls short as two sets of eyes turn to him. Ariya’s grinning widely, legs around Tony’s waist in a pseudo hold.

Drew points the spatula threateningly. “I’m making dinner.” 

Tony steps forward. 

“I’M MAKING DINNER-“ 

“I’ll order takeout.” Ariya says, smooth as can be. “Turn the stove off.”

“You are NOT about to suplex me into our new incredibly fragile furniture!” 

“Can your bed not support three grown men?” 

Drew sputters slightly. “Can we please eat dinner first?”

“You’re not innocent, Gulak! You woke me up humping two days ago!”

Drew clicks the stove off.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's got Ariya/Mustafa wow

Mustafa rakes nails over his scalp, causing a breathless gasp to bubble out of Ariya’s chest. His jaw hangs open, leaving his mouth for Mustafa to push in. Ariya curls his tongue, trying to find a better angle to suck as Mustafa holds his head in place, slowly pushing his cock in. 

He grabs softly at his thighs, not quite pressing his thumbs into the deceiving softness there, just stroking lightly over skin. Mustafa hits resistance and stops, pulling himself out, then feeding his cock to Ariya again in slow, careful thrusts until he’s got Ariya’s nose up again the dark curls around his base.

Ariya looks up slowly, eyes flickering to Mustafa’s face almost shyly, his eyes slightly dazed. They’re going slow, but not to prolong or torture. Mustafa’s just being kind, smiling at him, something comforting and gentle. Ariya would be struck by the kindness, if he hadn’t felt so floaty by the sensation of a full mouth. May have even protested how gentle it was, that Mustafa knew he wasn’t going to break. He squeezes Mustafa’s thigh in what he hopes is encouragement to move, but gets a soft pet over his hair instead, nails scratching lightly around his scalp as Mustafa just lets him hold his cock in his mouth. Tapping at his thigh gets him a slow rocking motion, moving torturously across his palette and threatening to send him off into space. He gags slightly, letting Mustafa jerk his hips in shock before slapping his thigh with an open palm, gagging hard as Mustafa’s hips buck harshly into his mouth.

A hand scrapes over his hair again, cupping the back of his head to reel him in close. Mustafa groans, audibly soft in the large room. Ariya tries his best to hollow his cheeks, blinking quickly as spit slides wet over his lower lip, pooling on his chin. 

Instead, Mustafa pulls out and Ariya can’t help but try and follow it, mouth parted as sensation overtakes him. Mustafa’s got one tight grip on his cock, wet and warm and spit slicked from Ariya’s dribbling mouth.

“Want to get to the good part.” He mutters sheepishly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tony/buddy ...hunk rights

Tony squirms, hitching his hips up slightly to make room for the folded up towel Buddy slips under his hips. He’s got Tony in a grip around the waist, returning the hand that was moving the towel to Tony’s pussy, slipping all four fingers back in with little fuss and a gush of slick. Tony whimpers, dropping his head back against Buddy and matching his small thrusts, clenching down around the plug in his ass. Buddy kisses the exposed bend of his neck, squeezing his stomach with the grip on him. “You’re so cute like this.” He thumbs once at Tony’s clit, holding him tight as he seizes. 

“You ever think about doing porn again? Just letting your body be used for pleasure?” Buddy stops thrusting his fingers, spreading them open in a V shape. Tony makes a sighing noise, hands scrabbling to grip at Buddy’s hair and arms and back arching. “You’re premier and all, good athlete, better fucktoy. All pretty and wet for dick and getting fucked wherever you can.”

Tony makes a soft, wordless sound. His thighs quiver like leaves in the wind, strength reduced to nothing as he leaks down onto the towel. Buddy slips his fingers out.

“Hey.” Tony slurs, tipping his head to the side to kiss Buddy’s cheek. 

Buddy flushes a little. “Let me reposition you, your legs are shaking.”

Tony mumbles softly, hitching a leg up so Buddy can spin him around, spreading him over one thigh. Tony leans forward and wraps his arms around Buddy’s neck and relaxes, sighing like a weight’s been lifted. “Nice.”

Buddy runs a hand through his hair, curling the tips around his fingers. “You’re humping my thigh again.”

“Several rounds to put me down. Premier in all ways.” 

Buddy snickers. “Get yourself off then, if you’ve got the stamnia.”

“Mean.”

Tony continues grinding down on Buddy’s thigh, a wet patch appearing as he moves himself up and down. Buddy grabs both cheeks and spreads, kneading gently before pulling back to spank, then returning to kneading as he rocks Tony forward. He’s rewarded with a hard shudder, a huffed breath. “Wait-“

Tony stills, and Buddy pushes him off his lap with a sticky noise. Tony thumps onto the floor with a controlled “oof” as Buddy fixes his gaze on Tony, keying in immediately. “Thought you were gonna do the work.”

Tony hesitantly reaches down, fingers spreading himself open, cheeks flushing crimson with shame, mouth opening like a fish as he stares st Buddy from his position on his back.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> its about the emotions

Ariya hesitates, fingers playing with the hem of his loose shirt he’s draped himself in, some XXXXL blanket that looks like he’d skimmed it from Tony’s laundry. Probably had, now that Mustafa looks closer- they all had shirts from home, that made traveling feel less heavy- and this particular tshirt was emblazoned with Long Island Strong. He tears his eyes away to pull his sweatshirt down over the tighter skin of his workout gear. 

He fiddles with his phone for a moment, curling his toes in his shoes. Tony and Ariya, yeah. That made sense- Tony was hanging around with Buddy right now, but from fantasy experience, Tony was a hot commodity. Mustafa tries very hard to push the thoughts of Tony’s hands on Ariya’s hips, of Tonys beard on Ariya’s thighs, Ariya’s heaving chest, Ariya’s clever smile, - He’s got no real excuse to stay in the gym right now, but interacting with Ariya had turned into a skittish affair and he wasn’t just about to ignore him. At this point, Mustafa wasn’t sure if he could turn around subtly. 

He adjusts himself carefully, scrolling to Cedric’s name in his contacts.

“Hey.”

Mustafa jumps, turning around swiftly. “Ariya-“

Ariya’s got his hands in his shorts pockets, rocking slightly on his heels as he visibly gives Mustafa a quick once over. “Doing your big superhero jumps today?”

“Groundwork. Just uh, grappling and-“

Ariya nods, cutting him off. “Did you know they have a sauna?”

“Really?”

Ariya nods again. “Fancy gym.”

He’s holding his bag loosely in one hand. 

“Headed out already?”

Ariya’s face slips into annoyance. “Yeah, I finished my workout.”

“Want to go in the sauna?”

“The- uh.” Ariya shifts. “Yeah, if you want to get the bucket. It’s a steam one, the oldschool brick kind.”

“Pretty weird gym, really. There’s that offshoot back area, the empty one?”

Ariya thoughtfully taps his phone, looking a little sullen. “Tony ditched me immediately and made a beeline for it- something about alarms. Did you hear the Planet Fitness thing?”

Mustafa nods. “Uhm, yeah. Super weird policy. Sauna rules?”

Ariya looks away quickly. “Towel and coals kind. I’ll start the fire-“

“I’ll get the bucket. Cool.”

Mustafa tries his best to give one of the big smiles. “Cool cool.” He repeats himself twice more.

The door to the sauna swings shut like a jail cell, loudly reminding himself of the situation he’d put himself in. Ariya had rushed off to get the coals lit, shoulders up by his ears and bag hitting the floor like he had no time to wait. Mustafa had grabbed the bucket from the rack, but seeing no hose, shuffled into the bathroom. The workout was beginning to set in heavy in his muscles and he’d felt the strain as he hurriedly spread himself, wiping the gathering slick from his crotch with a muted sigh. His dick perks up a little in the cooler air of the bathroom, and he rubs against his palm thoughtfully for a moment, grinding into his hand. Sheesh. Everything about his drive was too insistant these days. 

And then the bucket starts overflowing and he has to yank his pants back up, stumbling over to the sink and carefully tipping extra out into the basin. 

Ariya’s already inside when the door closes behind him, lit soft by the coals and the light of a few candles. He pokes at his little pyramid, clearly satisfied with himself, not looking up to offer Mustafa the scoop. “You like it hot, right?”

Mustafa stumbles over his own thoughts. Yeah, he liked Ariya hot- Ariya was hot- he liked Ariya- okay he was here to talk to Ariya cmon-

He mechanically dumps a measured amount of water over the coals and steam swells to life, turning the sweltering dry into a vicious damp heat, curling over skin and through body as the room settles with haze. 

Ariya gives a satisfied sigh. “Yeah, that’s it.” He comments, probably to no one, but Mustafa hadn’t answered his earlier question and maybe it was too late now-?

“I like my saunas pretty hot. Sorry, I was- not a fan of the dry heat and-“

“Lost in your own head?”

Ariya picks at the fraying edge of the gym towel. He’s staring at Mustafa, eyes sleepily lidded, chest rising and falling slowly. He hadn’t shaved recently and the forming sweat catches in curling little hairs. He frowns a little. “It’s been weird lately.”

Mustafa worries his lip between his teeth. “Hey-“

Ariya clasps his hands together and leans over, suddenly not meeting Mustafa’s gaze.

“You...okay?” It comes out weaker that Mustafa would’ve liked.

“Yeah, my neck healed up fine.”

Mustafa shuffles, resettling himself beside Ariya. He puts one sweat slicked hand on Ariya’s broad shoulder, trying softer this time. “Hey.”

Ariya doesn’t look at him.

“Is it easier-?”

Mustafa shakes his head. A few hairs fall loose from the bun he’s slicked back. “No.”

“Sometimes, I just think, if I was less of a jackass-“

“You know, I hear they call that ‘heeling’.” 

Ariya snorts. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to joke about your pain.” 

“It’s the first sentence you’ve spat out without being hesitant or nervous.”

Ariya looks up. He moves to dump a little more water on the coals. “You’re not... upset. About the belt. Or Drew. Or Cedric. Just-“ He falters, rubbing at his jaw. “How?”

Mustafa moves his hand to Ariya’s spine. “I.... got lucky. I didn’t lose Cedric. Not like you and Drew, Drew and Tony. Not like Noam’s injury.” 

Ariya swallows.

Mustafa pulls him gently, leaning Ariya against him in what he hopes is comforting. “They still care, yaknow. Tony’s.... selfabsorbed, but he cares. You both still room together, right? He’s not ditching you. You should still talk it out, but.” Mustafa squeezes his shoulders. “It’s... probably good you’ve distanced from Drew.”

“Jack.”

Mustafa rocks Ariya against him gently. “You still hang out.”

“It’s pretty awkward and sexually tense.” Ariya laughs, an echoing quiet chuckle in the wood room.

Mustafa dumps more water on the coals to avoid the soft “me too” on his lips.

They sit, side by side for a long moment, alternating the pouring of water over coals. Ariya slowly relaxes again, leaning back into the arm around his shoulders with the heat holding them both tight. 

Mustafa wipes sweat off his upper lip, glancing to the side to find Ariya looking back at him.

Ariya smiles. 

It’s one of the big ones, all teeth and cheese and misbehavior wrapped up in that silly face he makes to cover up anything bad, and Mustafa can’t help it. He startles out a hiccuped laugh, and Ariya’s smile fades to a warm grin that makes Mustafa sweatier than the sauna.

“......Dinner?”

“Yeah, I could eat.”

Mustafa dumps the rest of the bucket on the coals, a final bloom of steam and a sharp hiss extinguishing most of the light in the room. Ariya’s hand finds his for just a moment, fingertips skating over knuckles as he moves to open the door. 

“Thanks.” 

Mustafa moves past Ariya, shrouded in the dim of the sauna, into the fluorescents of the bathroom proper. Ariya’s right behind him, darting for the shower. “Cold cold cold-“ He’s chanting quietly, already fiddling with knobs and-

Mustafa stares down at the towel on the floor at his feet, brain completely blanking for a moment before the dots connect, the chill curling in his skin replaced suddenly by bright hot shame. Ariya’s hissing at the faucet in farci, then sighing, and he’s barely looking back up before Ariya’s pulling him closer and warm water is gushing over his head. Ariya tsks quickly at him, moving just into the spray and working his fingers after the tie in Mustafa’s hair.

It falls over his face, and Mustafa peeks through it like wet curtains. 

Ariya’s staring back at him, looking a little nervous. 

Neither of them have towels. Ariya’s holding Mustafa’s hair tie. The water is warm, gliding down Mustafa’s neck and shoulder, striking Ariya wet across the hip. 

Mustafa yanks the shower curtain closed in a loud, rattling motion. Ariya moves slower, hand settling on Mustafa’s shoulder to turn him into the spray. Through the damp curtain of his hair, Mustafa watches Ariya sort through his little shower kit, proudly containing products too expensive to even consider traveling with. 

“You don’t just have soap?”

Ariya scoffs. “One of these is soap.”

There’s a scattering of bottles, all filled to various amounts and uniformly marked with a gold company logo Mustafa doesn’t recognize. The tension wanes, just barely, as Mustafa tilts his head into the water. The gym has luxuriously perfect shower pressure, and Ariya’s hands are rubbing deep circles into his back like a massage. “Jeeze, Ali.”

Mustafa blinks back. “Huh?”

“You’ve got alot of knots for a guy as flexible as you are.”

“Mmh, I usually work them out with a roller after the-“ Ariya’s hand dips down to lather along a hip, curving fast over his ass. “GYm!”

Ariya’s soapy hand slides between his thighs, running down to his knee. If Mustafa’s outburst startled him, he shows no sign of it- or stopping. The hands settle heavy on his shoulders again, giving one final blissful rub before he’s switching places with Ariya, hands full of a scented soap and spreading white suds down the plane of Ariya’s neck, the curve of his spine. 

There’s a moment of being lost in the expanse of Ariya’s skin, but even as the water sluices and rinses the soap and his hands away, he’s coming back to himself. “Where did you want to get food?”

Ariya hums noncommittally. “I don’t know the area too well, since the tour isn’t really stopping along the same path. You ever been around here?”

“Bet we could find a waffle house.”

Ariya scoffs, and nudges Mustafa into the spray. Fingers wind their way into dark strands, brushing through slowly. Ariya’s gold ring glints through Mustafa’s hair in bad gym lighting, water leaving glinting pearled droplets along his brow and nose. “Your diet sucks, yaknow.” comes out instead’ve “you’re beautiful”. 

Mustafa shudders, shoulders relaxing as Ariya works the shampoo in. “I’ll just put my shirt back on. You’re really good at this.”

“You got so much fucking hair.”

“You should grow your out a little again, have your handsome curls.”

Ariya scoffs quietly. “Yeah, love the awkward stage where everything’s all unkempt and I look like an idiot on live tv.”

“You always look like an idiot on live tv.” Mustafa jabs playfully, tipping his head back to wash the soap out. There’s some droplets stuck on his long eyelashes, and Ariya isn’t sure how to poke fun back when Mustafa’s looking at him like that. He’s grinning with his teeth out, mischievous and self congratulatory, and Ariya puts a hand on his hip and steps into the spray.

They’re not really even kissing. Mustafa has his lips parted, Ariya’s just centimeters away as they still, frozen in the suddenly getting less warm water, soap swirling around their feet as they just breathe each other’s air for a moment. Ariya’s thumb presses against Mustafa’s hipbone, and Mustafa’s hand has slid up to cup the back of his head, slowly petting the stubble there.

“That’s it.” Mustafa whispers into his mouth, and drags him into the kiss with enough force to make their teeth click.

Ariya’s toes curl into the tile, gripping harder into Mustafa’s skin.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tony/cedric is ALSO hunk rights

Tony looks at Cedric in complete silence, an almost resigned look for a man who’s headed into one of the defining moments of his career. He has this exhaustion about him- nothing said of a good match’s kind, but instead, felt of a knowledge that friendship is fleeting, fake, or that beating Drew wasn’t enough- he was going to have to beat the only other person he’d thought about in the last months.

Cedric clears his throat. “I- uh. I gave something to Mustafa for luck. Before Mania. He gave it back before he left. I’d like to give it to you.”

Tony manages a half-hearted sneer, but the words that Cedric is expecting never come. No “former champ”, “don’t want anything from you”, no insult to his weight or appearance.

Instead,

“Yeah, sure.”

“Do you trust me enough to close your eyes?”

Tony examines Cedric, meeting his eyes through stray hairs. The corners of his eyes are just-so, barely tinted red, glossy, like he was just waiting for everything to go away so he could cry.

Cedric gets it. He kneels down beside where Tony’s sitting, watching as Tony slowly closes his eyes.

Cedric leans in carefully, waiting for Tony to startle or open his eyes. There’s a thoughtful moment where Cedric just breathes, centimeters off Tony’s lips.

Tony kisses him back. It’s exploratory, with more teeth that necessary, but no complaints from Cedric. When Cedric pulls back, Tony’s taken on a distinct flush, lips just slightly plumper from how hard he’d been kissing.

“Good luck.”

Tony smiles at him, a real and almost sad grin. “When I win, come fight me like that again.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we love weird crossdressing roleplay

Drew moves his hips up, legs widening further as he kisses Tony harder, the hand knotted in his tie keeping him in an awkward hunch, slightly crouched beside the bed. He’s got a hand on a shoulder for balance, moving like he’s going to slide onto the bed and take him into his lap. His hand slides down, fingertips ghosting over his neck and collarbone like a promise Drew can’t read before the hand finds itself in the center of a chest and shoves- hard.

All the air gets knocked out of his lungs, accented by a startled ‘ehp!’. He’s pushed back down before he can get back up almost instantly, a foot resting low on his stomach. A squirming feeling appears in Drew’s chest. The shoe is.... closer than he’d like. 

“Don’t move or I’ll fucking tape you to yourself. This is a show, not a fuckin’ whorehouse, got it? No words. Nod if you get it.” His voice is soft, as normal, words edged with a calm that defies how intense his stare is.

Tony pauses. There’s a solid, silent moment, tense and bitter and uncomfortable like a sweltering day. He removes his foot, nearly wiping the tip on Drew like he was a doormat.

Tony picks at his cufflinks. They’re little dumbbells. 

Drew plucks up his spirit, nods slowly. “It better be good for me to keep quiet. I give the orders around here, yeah?”

Tony sneers. “Up against the bedframe and tell me what comes off first, if you like.”

He scrambles. The headboard thunks against his back in an instant and he flops into the luxury of too many hotel pillows.

“Shoes first.”

The Italian leather slips off quickly. He’s tossed them aside haphazardly. No need to be clean now.

Tony pops the button on his slacks, unclips his cufflinks. Puts a leg on the bed, peels a sock off.

It’s sheer underneath. 

From this angle, Drew can see the stocking now. They travel up into the slacks, invisible unless you knew to roll the socks down. 

The fly unzipping brings him back up, and Tony clearly has the reigns now. The tie Drew was holding earlier slides off, down one arm, onto the floor. 

“This is a nice shirt, so I think I’ll take it off without popping the buttons.” Tony turns idly, visibly starting to unbutton his shirt.

Drew crosses his legs, shoving a hand between his thighs. Bulging muscles. Bra strap.

Bra strap?

Tony turns back around fully, showing off a full frontal of lace. His bra cups his chest awkwardly, still uplifting the pecs but not quite filling out the cups and outlining them in gray lace. His dick- erect, leaking, very much into this and fished out while his back was turned - is dripping over ripped stocking and tight looking panties, currently rucked around his balls.

Tony hooks his thumbs in his beltloops, framing his crotch with his fingers.

“Better be good, you said?”


	9. Chapter 9

Being in love with Jack Gallagher is almost like getting a full forehead headbutt from him. It makes Ariya’s head spin and his world explode and it makes his fucking head hurt. Sparks light up behind his eyes and make his breath catch every time he sees a hint of way-too-pale skin, like the air he’s pulling in isn’t enough when weirdly soft hands (moisturizer, Daivari, it’s just lotion) touch his shoulders, his arms, too polite to go where they want. The way Jack’s thin lips butcher his name hurts, but no more than it does when Jack’s not saying his name. Ariya’s going to be on the tip of his tongue in every way he can.  
Jack smiles at him in the locker room and it’s a better way to lock up every single one of his limbs than the Windsor Knot. There’s no counter to how badly Ariya wants to make him crinkle the edges of his eyes like that. William the whateverth can’t hit him hard enough to beat the desire to continue their feud out of him if not for the excuse just to be able touch Jack, to be in the ring with him nightly until neither of them can anymore.  
Ariya is consumed.  
Jack scalds his tongue on his tea in catering and Ariya laughs at him like a little boy on the playground, pulling the pigtails of his crush. He trips Jack in the hallway by swinging a full leg under Jack, watching as the Gentleman stumbles over Ariya’s new golden boots. Jack scowls at him and leaves without a word.  
Ariya thinks about the anger in his eyes all goddamn night. He burns with it, skin feeling overly warm and gross against the cheap-ass hotel sheets, tongue feeling thick in his mouth and limbs heavy before he succumbs to the feeling of sickness. He can hear his brother ribbing him, love-sick fool as usual.  
A shower doesn’t help. Breakfast doesn’t help.  
He presses Jack up against the wall in the locker room. Jack’s mouth helps. Gallagher responds to being dragged in by his tie with a roguish smile, unbefitting a gentleman. He’s dipped a hand into Ariya’s sweatpants, sliding fingers under the elastic band of his boxers to squeeze Ariya’s ass, smile curling into his mustache when Ariya hiccups his surprise into the kiss. “Daivari-” Jack says against his mouth, a question that sounds like a prayer.  
So they sort themselves out in the ring. Ariya aims dead on for Jack’s stupid mustache, spinning on his heel to engage as Jack rushes past him. He’d go for a clothesline normally, but Jack’s neck is already at kick-level and boy, Ariya wants to make him move like a shitty bobblehead.  
He makes contact and his entire leg sparks, the bone-deep feeling of pain and electricity and impact and -  
He lands on his ass with Jack, blinking wildly. Jack stares at him from his seated position. Ariya stares back.  
Jack’s eyes go dark and angry, brow furrowing slowly as he gets back to his feet and Ariya should- Ariya should be moving and he’s on his feet before his brain can even catch up-  
Jack headbutts him and the world flashes again, electricity and violence and the feeling of his fucking brain being rattled around inside his skull and they’re not in the ring- and they are in the ring-  
He hears Jack snarl and responds blindly. His arm connects. Electricity again, sparks flying, like Ariya’s first kiss. The darkness, the sensation, the feeling. Fans screaming. Too loud.  
Ariya shakes his head violently, stumbling backwards as he sees an umbrella appear in his vision. Umbrella. UMBRELLA- it’s too late.  
It meets his arm mid-swing and the world explodes.  
Jack stands still in front of him, eyes wide for a moment. Ariya’s caught William the whateverth in one hand, a disgusting display of knowing-showmanship. Jack grimaces at him.  
The roar of the arena floods over Ariya like a swelling wave. His palm hurts.  
Jack’s still staring. He hasn’t let go of the umbrella. Neither has Ariya. His mustache is mussed.  
Ariya reaches out slowly and the crowd falls completely silent as he fixes Jack’s mustache.  
They move again. Ariya remembers the tap of Jack’s dress shoes on canvas, dancing around his punches like he’s not supposed to do, caught up in the familiar motions of a waltz with a smile curled over his lips. Jack looks fucking incensed, a man possessed as he lashes out repeatedly with a broken umbrella, a dress shoe, a fist-  
Ariya jerks back easily from an incoming headbutt and the crowd gasps, filling him with air and energy and he makes the world’s stupidest choice, sliding into Jack’s space, lips almost meeting, and hisses. “You feel it too.”  
The lights in the arena go dead as Jack meets his eyes, sparks running down Ariya’s spine.  
Jack smiles at him in the dark. “Scoundrel.” He whispers. It sounds fond.  
Then, louder. “Did you do this with the lights?"  
They have to play their games and fill their roles. Ariya gets it, sure.  
He kisses Jack before the lights flicker back on, cameras still dead, technicians scrambling as they break to either side of the ring, still circling. The match might not be televised, the people here may not be able to see them on the dark Jumbotron, but the feeling is still charging the air. Ozone-thick excitement, trepidation. The murmur of confusion.  
This match isn’t about them anymore.  
Jack looks pinked, from exertion or from the kiss, Ariya isn’t sure. It doesn’t matter. He wants to tear him open with his teeth. He wants to kiss him so hard there’s bruising that matches his skin. He tells him so, Farsi spilling from his lips in an angry yell. He keeps stalking Jack, covering the ring in wide circles as Jack stalks him in response.  
They meet in the middle and Ariya decks him with a Hammerlock Lariat so hard he can’t feel his arm.  
He takes the pin, even though he can feel Jack tensed to kick out. He didn’t really win.  
Jack meets him in the locker room after the match.  
Two victories in one night, given to him by a perfect gentleman.


	10. Chapter 10

“Fuck, you’re big. I knew you were big. Jesus, Tony, you really mean it when you call yourself premiere, huh?”

Tony squints his eyes open, swallowing quietly as Ariya’s fingers yank down on his briefs. They fit just about as well as his trunks did, a little too tight around his dick, which is just the way he liked it. Ariya moves his mouth along the fabric, doing little more than kissing at it and panting over it, gusts of hot breath making him twitch.

“You’re so impressive, Tony, just bursting out of all your clothes. Do you buy them like this? Like to show off?”

Tony slides his fingers across Ariya’s head, wishing for a moment he had hair to grip at before petting lightly at the fuzz. “That enough for you?”

Ariya grins, looking up from under his eyelashes. “This? Shit, you rival my big toys.” He pulls down on the band of Tony’s underwear, letting his erection spring free, and immediately seals his mouth around it, wrapping his lips around the head. He says something muffled, sliding his mouth down on Tony’s dick. Tony’s nails scritch affectionately behind Ariya’s ear for a moment, grunting quietly as he tries to find his voice. “You like em big, huh? Think you can even take all of me?”

Ariya grins around Tony, sliding backwards. Tony presses him back down with his hand, shivering as Ariya easily goes back down. He’s about halfway there before he stops again, wrapping a hand around Tony’s base and sucking gently, not enough suction to do anything but feel hazily nice.  
He pulls off slowly, licking swollen lips. “You want to hear about how big you are or you wanna fuck my mouth?“


	11. Chapter 11

The curve of a Daivari’s smirk is lethal. Like their mouths are weapons, loaded with words and vitriol, dripping with cynicism, sarcasm, lies. Ariya’s caught some poor person in the headlights of his white teeth now, right in front of Jack’s position at the bar where he’s nursing a lukewarm Guinness.

Ariya lost his match tonight, bruising high on his temple from a faceful of steel post. It’s visible, even in the low lighting- Jack can really see almost all of the roster mingling around. Perhaps he’s simply sensitive to their presence.

Kendrick doesn’t drink because he thinks they put chemicals in it that kill his brain.

Jack takes another rough swallow, fixating his eyes on the wood of the bar as Ariya calls out, once again, “A ROUND ON ME!”

He lost the match. He has the money, but no cause the celebrate. Most men would not drown their woe with celebration.

Ariya catches his partner off guard with another smile, and Jack remembers what being in their place felt like. Knows the brush of beard against chin. The feeling of soft lips muttering words into his mouth between kisses, explorative, intimate.

They vanish into the bathroom. Ariya’s hand is tight on their hip, already thumbing jeans open between whispered promises, assertions of consent, little compliments that turn them to mush.

Jack orders another Guinness. Ariya’s paying, after all.

There’s still cum in Ariya’s beard when he leaves the bathroom, the audacity of disinterest, the preplanned self destruction of status. He trails over to Drew with a smirk, proud of himself for the drool still shiny in his facial hair, the smell of sex on his palette. Jack watches closer now. Drew scolds Ariya, pressing thumbs into pulse points and napkins to his face, orders Ariya another glass of wine. Leans in.

Kisses the taste out of Ariya’s mouth. Possessive, cradling his head tenderly but not letting go. Ariya melts into his familiarity with the wine stem clutched in his hand like he’d be breaking it, and washes his mouth with Merlot. Drew’s scolding becomes halfhearted, annoyed, and Ariya moves on with a shot of vodka in one hand and the other shot left in front of Drew.

He actually seems to have conversation with Tony. There’s two shots before Tony even lets Ariya as close as he had been with Drew, two exes watching each other across the bar like Jack is doing to Ariya.

Ariya scoots his way into Tony’s lap, playing the tipsy, overly friendly drunk. He’s blocked Jack’s view of either of their expressions, but not-  
Jack orders another beer to tear his eyes away from Ariya’s ass. “Cold”, he repeats.

It will not matter.


	12. Chapter 12

“Beg.”

Noam blinks, trying to move his head up from the iron grip it’s in. The hand solidly cups his head, fingers of the opposite one curled tightly around slightly damp curls.  
The dick bumps up against his lips, smearing precome lightly along the bottom one. He shifts again, jerking his head back and wrenching his hair slightly. “Christ, you’re stubborn.” One hand releases, curling delicately over his ear and jaw, and he’s yanked face to face by his hair.

“ I thought you knew how to do this- getting a bit of gay panic on me now?”

A thumb runs over his bottom lip, pushing the taste of skin and salt in as it presses past his teeth. “See? Like that. Receptive. You’re going to have to beg for more.”

“….. give me your dick.”

The corners of the man’s mouth turn down slightly. “C’mon.”

He exhales through his nose in a huff. “Please?”

“Well, that’s closer, but do you not want to do this? I know you like this sort of thing, we talked ab-“

Noam presses forward, pushing his legs further open as he straddles them in a swift motion. A hand strokes up his back, a warm comfort. There’s a moment where he presses down into the kiss before teeth click against his- awkward, teenage, inexperienced-  
And then he’s flat on his back, seeing sparks and all the air knocked out of his lungs. The hotel coffeetable seems to have only barely supported his weight, and he’s swept off it and lifted to be thrown back near the bed. Heat and weight settle ontop of him, a hand -

“Stop-“

The man sits up and back on his heels. The frown is back, worry lines deeper.

“Do you just want to kiss?”

“Grab my hair again.”

“You want to do that?”

“I do- I-“

He gets kneed in the stomach. It's far gentler than he'd asked for. “Use your fucking words. Don’t talk back to your -uh- manager, I’m doing what’s best for you.”

His voice drops out, thumb gently rubbing a circle into his thigh. Noam looks away as he’s talking, looking at the blinds. It casts light on his face, casting a dramatic silhouette that comes from practiced confrontation. He gets slapped for his trouble, jaw squeezed between a hand as he’s brought face to face with him.

“Louder.”

“I don’t know how to beg?”

There’s a moment of stillness, before the warmth and weight slip away. His cheek still stings lightly from the hit- no trouble, but a grounding feeling for the situation as all contact between skin is severed. His erection throbs slightly, confused as to why it’s being ignored. His hand gets slapped away as he goes to relieve some of that feeling, and he glares at Man Unnamed as he withdraws. “Still want to do the scene? I teach on the job.”

Noam rolls his eyes.

“Fuckin brat, you know that, right?” He leans over, pinching a chunk of cheek. “Dont even know how to ask nicely. I think we could start with please and thank you.”

\--

“PLEASE!” He gasps, legs twitching wildly. A finger flicks his curled toes. “Beg me.”

Noam hitches his hips again, tossing his head back. A ring of marks already sits there, bites to bruises and skin dripping with sweat. “Please, please, please-“

“Going to need more than a chant of one word.”

He gasps out a broken noise as fingers press around the stretched ring of his ass. The vibrator slides in a bit further, a hand angling it just so. “Unless you think you can take all 10 inches before I take that ring off?”

Noam’s cock juts up between his legs, curved up to touch his stomach as the weak stream of precome trickles onto it, a dark red at the head. His legs kick uselessly, scrabbling for purchase that he won’t get.

Hands touch his cheeks, wiping away tears as Noam shudders wildly. “Please-“ He tries again, hoarse. “Please let me-“

“You’re getting there.” A hand slides over his ribcage. “What do you want, baby bear? Can you ask me nicely for it?”

He makes a sobbing noise as the hand slides firmly over his cock, thumbing near insistently at the head. “If I don’t let you, we can take the ring off and try again tomorrow, but you won’t get to cum.”

“Please! Fuck, please, i can’t wait, please, let me come, let me- please,”

Noam bucks his hips into the hand, curling fistfuls of the shirt above him as the vibrator is slid out of him. A finger slides in. “So open for me.”

“Please, god, can I come on your cock?”

He’s scrambling at this point, but he’ll take it. He seats himself in a single motion, giving him barely a moment to adjust. There’s a soft wheezing noise beneath him, and lips pressed reverently to his wrist. “Please, daddy, let me come on your cock, please, i want to feel you bring me off, ple-ASE-“

His breath hitches, voice squeaking on the first thrust. “Will you last long enough to come on my cock?”

Noam looks down at the cockring, and exhales softly, rocking his hips a little, wit dead on his lips with his prostate being jabbed at.

His hips slam upwards, clenching down tight as he starts meeting the thrusts on the way down. His eyes are half lidded, drool creeping from the corner of his mouth as he lifts his back off the sheets. There’s a very quick struggle for dominance, Noam using a second wind to push him down onto the bed and seat himself fully on his dick again, legs trembling with exhaustion. He tosses his curls back, huffing to himself as he pants out half-pleading statements and bites back moans. Precome drips steadily out of his head now, and a hand comes up to unclip the cock ring.

Noam collapses, seating himself completely and stops moving, clenching as an orgasm rips through him. He curves like a bowstring, letting himself be settled down in a shivering cuddle. Fingers brush gently over the nape of his neck.

“Decent.”

Noam gives a huff of annoyance. “I did great.”

“You did great.”

Noam smiles into his neck.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uh, drew and tony are experienced gays and jack wants to fuck ariya right

"You start with one- find the curve of the body and kinda follow it, let them adjust around you. They might clamp down or need a moment. Ariya should be fine, but it’s polite to ask.” 

Tony thumps his heel. “I remember when one finger really felt like anything.”

Drew pats his thigh lightly, smearing a bit of lube over his skin from the residue on his hands. “Jack needs to know how it’s done.” 

“Take a photo and put it in a powerpoint, Drew, I’d like to get fucked sometime today regardless of lesson. You’re doing this on purpose.” 

“Should I stop and let Jack try instead?” Jack’s heart stops in his chest, fingers tightening around the pillow on his lap. Drew’s working on inserting another finger, using both of them to tease at Tony’s entrance as the two of them start to have a witty conversation that Jack only hears through his heartbeats in his ears as he pictures sliding into Tony.

“Jack.” Drew grabs his attention directly, slowly spreading his fingers the best he can, sending Tony into a cascade of small shivers. “If you do something like this, gravity can be your friend.” He pours lube down his fingers carefully, trickling it into Tony’s ass. “It’s good if you need more or deeper lubrication. It’s always good to have more.”

“Towel, then.” Jack mutters, head spinning as he watches Tony flutter around Drew’s fingers. “Got it.”

“Just a good idea.” Tony mutters, shifting his hips up. “Jack, can you lube up the plug beside you? No condom.” Drew puts a third finger into Tony, kissing the lighter skin around his base. Tony’s dick twitches a heavy dribble of pre into Drew’s face, smacking his cheek lightly and dragging down to his lips. “If you like…” Drew hovers his mouth carefully, talking just over the head of Tony’s dick. “You can blow them while fingering. It helps with associations and focusing on something that isn’t strange if they’ve never done it before.” 

Jack nods slowly, watching Tony’s muscles contort and twist, arching off the bed as Drew seals his mouth around just the head of his dick. When he pops off, he motions for the plug. “Slowly fuck it into him. He should be stretched enough. They have to rel-MFG-”

Tony bucks off the mattress, one hand tight at the back of Drew’s hair as he slides him back over his dick. Drew grins at Jack the best he can, wrapping a hand around the base of Tony’s dick and using a forearm to pin his hips to the bed. Tony’s panting softly, head tipped back on the sheets like a man in rapture from the waist down. He’s haloed by his own hair, holding tight to the sheets underneath him, and Jack gets so distracted that he forgets about the pillow covering his erection entirely. He slides the plug in, keeping watch on Tony’s blissed out face as Drew sucks him down, making ugly slurping noises. He tries to fuck the length in slowly, keeping as best he can in time with Drew before the plug is fully seated in Tony. 

His dick aches miserably. It’s the simplest thing in the world to fish himself out of suit pants, wrap a lube-slick hand around himself-

And hair-trigger cum as Tony pulls Drew up and off him, drool dribbling out from his swollen lips to mix with Jack’s semen on his face. Drew smiles a little goofy now, his own hand covered in semen as well. 

Tony’s spit wet dick shines in the light, completely bent up to his stomach and leaking a puddle of slick onto his beautiful abs. He’s breathing heavy, hips pressing down on the plug like it’s actually fucking him, hand still gripping Drew like he’s afraid he’ll run. “Finish me off.” He huffs out, his tone irritated and weak.

Drew leans in slowly, licking at the puddle of cum instead. Jack hazily puts two and two together, dick twitching painfully in his hand as the sensitive shaft tries to get hard again. Drew crawls more onto the bed, the crotch of his pants clearly wet, dick still slightly plumped up at the top. He’d either humped the bed or come completely untouched, just from Tony fucking his mouth.

Tony groans pathetically, rolling his waist to catch even a flick of Drew’s tongue. Jack catches the edge of the plug in his slippery fingers on a motion up, and Tony seats himself back down on the plug in one hard motion and spills on himself.

Later——-

“Drew, I was expecting you to be far more conservative about this whole …..” 

“Hole.” Tony corrects unhelpfully, tossing Drew a bottle of lubricant and several packets of condoms. He catches them near blindly, the two reverting to a perfect sync as Tony, still nude, moves through the closet with overly familiar precision. Drew gets a green silicone buttplug to the head as he watches Tony’s movements unabashedly. 

Jack swallows tightly, watching Tony move aside several loops of ropes and a gag or two, all neatly hung on hangers.

“Conservative? No- I knew Chuck Taylor biblically and immorally for a good few years.” Drew examines the plug silently for a moment. “This one’s small enough, Tony.”

“We had a better kit back here and you know for a fact either of us won’t use anything that small.”

“Is Ariya small?” Jack find himself asking, cheeks flushing at the implication. Tony leans out of the closet, trading a glance with Drew. “You have to get used to the feeling before jumping right into anal.”

“I did fine with Chuck.”

Tony snorts, turning back into the closet, muttering something about whiskey and Chuck Taylor. Jack keeps the pillow where it was over his crotch, lips thinning as Tony bends over and Drew uses his thumb to press on the base of the plug- still in. Tony makes a half whiny, half breathy sound and looks through his legs.   
“This was supposed to be educational, you behave.” Drew looks away innocently.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i yearn

Jack slouches against the bench, eyes following Davari as he limps into medical. His lips twist from the half-pout they’re in to a full scowl the moment he sees the slumped form of the Gentleman, and he’s turning around to leave before one of the medics clamps a hand down on him. One hand still cradles his throat, thumb pressed up against the pulse, and he's glaring weakly at Jack like the I Forfeit match had completely exhausted him. He shrugs. 

The medic’s mostly fussing over Ariya, Ariya getting fussy right back, teeth gritted like he’s trying to speak through bared fangs. The Persian Lion, indeed. Jack exhales through his nose. “Daivari, be a dear and let the man do his job.”

“Didn’t ask you-” Daivari turns to point as the medic reaches for him with tape, grabbing his hand firmly and pulling it back. Ariya’s face flickers with resistance for only a second before he hisses sharply. The medic says something in Persian, patting his cheek like Daivari’s a child before the fight slides out of his spine and he goes sullen. 

Jack leans back onto the ice he’s been given, considering Daivari carefully. Ariya curls in on himself as he’s sized up, not meeting Jack’s eye, as if he knows what’s coming next.

“....Our….arrangement.”

Ariya’s lip curls. The medic, bless them, doesn’t interfere or react.

“Right, the parsley bullshit.”

Jack doesn’t correct him. Ariya knows what parley is. “The secondary contract.”

Ariya’s eyes dart to the medic and up to Jack, heart on his sleeve, anger clear on his face. Jack tilts his head backwards. Challenge-

Ariya frowns, gives a little shake of his head. The medic looks up at him. Ariya yanks his hand back and moves to get up before Jack hops to his feet, boots soft on the tiled floor. With each step forward toward Ariya, he’s moving to get off the bench.

Jack’s hand meets his shoulder and shoves, pushing him back up against it. “Chap.”

Ariya sits, but he won’t meet Jack’s eye. He shoves his phone into Jack’s hand as the medic starts checking his pulse. Jack enters his phone number.

“Hm. Your pulse is still unusually fast.” 

Daivari smiles sharply at the medic. “Is it.”

Jack pushes the phone back into Ariya’s hand and gives the medic a gentle smile. “Take good care of my friend here- I’m afraid our match did nothing to remove his sour demeanor.”

Ariya holds his tongue as Jack leaves the room, eyes following the bruises he’d left on pale skin until Jack is out of his view.

The medic shrugs at him. “He’s a weird one.”

Ariya laughs, a desperate choke of air that has him feeling where William the Whateverth was pressed tight to his skin. His chest aches, phone burning in his hand as it vibrates to notify him of his new text.

It’s just an address, a date, a time, and an umbrella emoji. 

Ariya snaps a photo of his middle finger.

Two weeks later, he’s at said address at said time wearing something nice enough that it makes him look godly, but not nice enough that it isn’t casualwear. Three-piece-suit havin’ bastard. Ariya stares at the front door of the (clearly) Air BNB cottage in silence for a moment. 

It even has a garden.

Ariya sighs. The nervous pit in his stomach does a few 054’s, landing on his confidence and ego as he attempts to work up the nerve to knock on the door of the place he’d been invited to on a stupid bet he shouldn’t have made and lost- with results that-

His thoughts cut off, because Jack’s standing in the doorway with an amused look on his face and his sleeves rolled up already. “Daivari.”

Ariya just lifts his eyebrows at him. “Ariya. Ariya Daivari.”

Jack grins. “Gallager. Jack Gallagher. Charmed, I’m sure, now stop loitering on this nice rented porch and do come insi-”

Ariya shoves past him, making sure to shoulder-check him on the way in. Before Jack can admonish him for walking into the main area, he’s got his shoes off in one hand and have them set on the shoe rack.

Jack looks surprised. “Ah.”

“No shoes in the house, Jack.” Responding snappily feels as easy as breathing. Ariya’s glance darts downwards, hoping to catch the Gentleman at misdemeanor.

His socks have rain and umbrellas on them. It’s cute.

Ariya glances up at Jack in silence, face stretched a little in amused disbelief. Jack clears his throat. “.......So, you can be trained to be polite.”

Ariya points down at the socks, breaking out into a slimy grin. He doesn’t have to respond. Jack’s cheeks color slightly, flooding his pale, pale skin with the rosiest hint of pink at his cheekbones.

“You aren’t here to make fun of my socks.”

Ariya’s smile drops immediately.

Jack clears his throat. “You lost, and per the parley, the feud is off. Per the second clause-” 

He motions to a piece of paper on the table a few feet from them. Ariya doesn’t move. “....You submit to me and my whims for one night, outlawing things you are not comfortable with or do not want to do and I intend to keep my promises of delivering you a good thrashing.”

“You sound like we’re on camera.”

“I….talk like this.”

Ariya looks tired for a moment. “What do you mean by ‘what i’m not comfortable with’? I didn’t want to serve you for a night.”

“Well- your- hm.” Jack flushes slightly, fixing his mustache with one hand. “Your safeword?”

“Sheik.”

Jack pauses. “You’re comfortable with this concept, correct?”

“If you want to whip me, so be it.”

“Cane- no, you’re…….you’re acting….”

“I lost.”

Jack pauses. “....Sullen.”

“I lost, Jack. C’mon.” Ariya moves toward the back of the cottage. “Where do you want me?”

Jack twiddles his fingers along the edge of his sweatervest. “Ariya.”  
The man in question flops down on the couch, already tugging his pants off. “Just put me in the Paradise lock and teach me a lesson.”

They’ve done this once before. After one of their first matches, crammed silently in the back of the same cab, to the same hotel, ending up in Ariya’s hotel room with Jack’s pants around his ankles and Ariya making fun of his sock garters before swallowing him down. It was a game both of them enjoyed playing, though Ariya leaned so heavily toward humiliation that it made Jack lose his impressive stamina. Ariya, on the other hand, lost no stamina when being worn down, being made to submit.

“Is that what you want?”

Ariya scowls. “It’s about what YOU want- you won.”

Jack towers over Ariya, already in nothing but his briefs on the low couch. “Fold your clothes.”

“Fuck you.” Ariya tosses back cooly. His face has gone impassive.

Jack slaps him. The sound rings beautifully in the tiny room. Ariya grins, tongue against teeth. Jack motions to his clothes. It’s damn simple to fall in these roles- a hatefuck, learning your rival, whatever you wanted to consider it. It would be so damn simple, especially if Jack hadn’t learned to have empathy at some point and Ariya wasn’t hiding some emotions other than hollow loss from him. 

Ariya pulls his briefs off and uses the elastic waist to sling them at Jack’s face. Jack slaps him again- other cheek. Then a backhand. Ariya gives a soft groan. 

“Fold.”

“No.”

“I give you til I come back with the cane. If you haven’t folded the clothing, it’s ten strikes.”

Daivari takes the cane beautifully on the living room carpet, back bucking under every strike, mouth falling open. “Bedroom.” Jack instructs, cane firmly on the base of his spine. “On your knees.”

Daivari crawls, low and pained, just like he’d crawled from William on the ramp. Jack can’t resist another blow- a stinging shot to his thighs. Ariya collapses with moan. He makes it to the bedroom slowly, another 3 haphazard blows catching him across his thighs as he scrapes himself raw for Jack. He settles on the bed low, hips grinding down into the sheets greedily and he waits for the next hit, the muscles in his back taut with tension that Jack wants to thrash out of him. Arm over leg, Darvari’s breathing evening out for him, the eager curve of his pink-red back. His balls are taut between his legs, erection pushed down by his stomach. Jack can see the gather of precum smearing on his skin. He’s so hard already from so little. 

He strokes the swell of Ariya’s ass thoughtfully, pressing his nails down to hear Ariya’s grunts. He squirms in the lock, not trying to escape- just testing his bonds. Jack thoughtfully presses a thumb behind his balls, ignoring the half-whine that sputters out into the pillow. 

“Davari.”

Ariya makes a noise, a soft grunt of acknowledgement that he at least heard Jack. It trails off into a hiss when fingers spread over his welts, keeping steady weight on his lower back. 

“What do we say?”

Davari shifts his head as much as he can in the Paradise lock, eyes slightly glassy. “What?”

Jack presses his thumb down on the edge of a welt to watch Ariya squirm. “What do we say? If you get it wrong, I’ll give you five more. I don’t mind beating the manners into you.”

Ariya sneers at him, limbs starting to work in the lock. That’s not what Jack wants- he’s been particularly hard to get into any sort of subspace from the sheer stubbornness of his own will, only being made to submit when he’s taken to his absolute limits. He’d agreed readily to the original wager- whoever won could top in the way they wanted, but Ariya’s slowly working his way back up from subspace at Jack’s insistence he interact with the situation. He’d been almost pliant a moment ago, only muffling his louder sounds by sinking his teeth into the pillow he was laid on, hadn’t protested being wrapped into the Paradise lock at all. There was even a moment where he looked somewhat serene, his eyes half lidded from the fog of happy pain.

Jack lifts his arm, letting the cane slash through the air. Ariya’s shoulders jump slightly at the sound, then slump forward as he visibly prepares to take another blow. He sets the end of the cane lightly on a welt, pressing down slightly. Ariya twitches. 

“Sir?” He mutters. The attempt is half-baked with sarcasm.

Jack’s mouth goes a bit dry. “What-?”

“You want me to call you sir.” Ariya sounds slightly confused. 

It clicks slowly as Jack grinds the canetip into a bruise. “No, that’s not what I wanted you to say, but I do like that you’ve decided to call me that. I’m still giving you your five lashes.”

Ariya hisses a muffled “please” through his teeth, hips bucking slightly as Jack gives him another quick strike across his thigh. 

“Oh, what was that?”

He waits for Ariya to open his mouth to respond before striking again, forcing a gasp of air out of him. “We don’t mumble.”

“Please-”

“Please what?”

“Please-” Ariya falters. “Please- hit me?” His voice cracks slightly as the cane runs down his spine.

“Five more.” 

Ariya groans through his teeth with every hit. He’s gone limp in the Paradise lock again, but he looks conflicted as he tries to fight through the fog of pain and pleasure to answer Jack.

“Thank you?”

“There you go.” The click of the lube opening has Ariya’s shoulders jumping slightly in suprise, but he relaxes completely against the bed when Jack presses a finger to him. Jack hums. “Relax.” He pets a hand over Ariya’s thigh, slowly spreading him out just a little more, straining the Paradise Lock. 

Ariya makes a beautiful noise, using the extra room to slip free of the Paradise lock with a shuddery, whined inhale. He’s lunged for him, giving no room for Jack to react before Ariya’s hands are cupping his face, fingers tight and nails digging into his jawline as he scrapes one long streak from jaw to collarbone and then sharper, down to tweak Jack’s nipple. 

Jack grabs his wrist before he can, biting down into the kiss in a way that makes Ariya melt against him, full-bodied slouching on Jack’s body in one languid press that pushes his cock directly into Jack’s. Jack takes the gasp into his mouth and moves, pressing his teeth against Ariya’s pulse point as they his back thumps into the wall. 

“No insertion?” He asks, soft against Ariya’s neck. Ariya grimaces into their embrace and digs his nails into the meat of Jack’s biceps.

“Fight me one last time.”

Jack laughs at him. Ariya grins sharp.

“As you wish.”  
Ariya slams into the headboard with a brain-rattling slam as Jack twists his fingers in the sheets, pulling the comforter out of the way to wrap Ariya’s wrist like he’d had done to him. He yanks, securing the not-so-safe knot, and Ariya follows easy and curves his spine like a bowstring.

Jack aims his open-palmed strike as the cane-mark directly under the curve of Ariya’s ass.

Ariya howls like a beast, struggling against the tie-grip and dropping forward. His arm stays curved back, leaving Jack open to yank it behind Ariya and wrap his other arm with the sheet, creating a near-sling like creation that gets knotted with his teeth as Ariya bucks up against him. Ariya laughs, bright and loud and happy and Jack’s stomach knots up with the sheet.

“Do you WORST, you scoundrel! Pervert! You umbrella twirling twi-”

Jack gives him another open-palmed slap to his back, listening to Ariya choke on his insults while trying to breathe. He wraps a hand around the back of Ariya’s neck and presses down, just holding him in the sheets as Ariya takes several deep breaths.

“This isn’t the last of us, Daivari.”

Ariya stiffens a little at that. Jack grits his teeth. “The end of our feud was not me dropping you. We both have roles to fill- the I Forfeit match, first of it’s kind, you and I. That wasn’t for the cameras, Ariya. That wasn’t for the network. This isn’t for anyone but us.”

Ariya’s shoulder rolls in his sling. He’s trying to escape the knot, clever fingers already picking at the tie on his wrist. He’d come anticipating pain, not just physical. Jack wants to keep him forever, under his thighs, wrapped up tight in blankets and any affection he could shove into Ariya’s thick head.

“I’m going to fuck you til you can’t feel anything but what I’ve done to you. It’s all us. Only us.”

Ariya stills slightly, relaxing his back muscles as Jack scoops up the mostly-spilled lube, coating two of his fingers the best he can. He presses one against Ariya’s hole carefully, waiting for any twitch or hitch of the safeword.

Ariya moves his hips back, raising up slightly onto his knees. Jack leans forward, the lube-clean hand wrapping around as much of the thigh as he could get. Ariya sighs when Jack presses his tongue and forefinger up against him, relief and desperation coloring his every breath. “Please.”

Jack rewards him for that.

Ariya kisses Jack lazily once they’re face to face again, grinning when Jack goes to brush his teeth beforehand. Jack wanders back into the room to face Ariya cleaning himself off with his hand and mouth. The wet washcloth hits him square in the face.   
Jack settles in the bed beside Ariya and huffs out a laugh. “........Would you like some camel socks?”

Ariya kicks him lightly. “Make ‘em lions.”


End file.
